Clearly a seminal work for a reason; Clare is so insightful, and so doggedly determined to hold onto and sit in places of tension in ways that are really productive and honestly also inviting. The first half, focusing on the sites of his childhood and the tensions between environmental protection and economic possibility for those living there, is insightful and has been foundational I'm sure for thinking about the binaries of queer life. The second half is similarly productive as Clare explores the lines and boundaries of his own life, and where pride and witness overlap and rub together. There's obviously a lot to chew on here, and the work is so insightful and thoughtful; every part has been clearly worked over with a lot of care.

I will say I think if you've read other stuff around crip culture and queerness, you may feel like there's not much new here; Clare's work has been so heavily cited (for good reason!) that ymmv on how familiar all of this feels/if it truly feels new. I think obviously you should still read it if you haven't, but it's something to keep in mind when you're approaching the text.

I really enjoyed this, thought I read it under less-than-ideal circumstances. It didn't grab me per se, but the language was very lyrical and once I got into it, it was easy to let the flow of the story move me along. Honestly I kind of feel like I'm missing out on this one; I liked it but didn't love it, and I feel like maybe I'm just not in the right place for the narrative beats? But it certainly wasn't a bad book, so maybe I can return to it some day when I'm better prepared for it.

I did it! I finished the very long book, in spite of maybe not reading it under the best circumstances!

So this was like powerfully atmospheric; I think the sort of sprawling form of this book was so effective, not that it necessarily felt sprawling? I'm struggling to convey the way that the atmosphere created here works so damn well with the text. It all felt vaguely surreal to me, while at the same time being deeply grounded enough to be fairly haunting. The tension carried through out is just bonkers in how palpable it is, even in moments where it's unclear why that tension exists. It's clearly a masterful work in a lot of ways!

I cannot write this review, however, without talking about the Woman Problem, which I thought briefly I just made up, somewhere between the opening pages of the book and the last third--but no, I just ignored it until I guess I couldn't ignore it any more. Oof, folks. The whole "woman with one single flaw (small breasts) has that flaw fixed by her

magical pregnancy

" was too much for me, on top of the other stuff (weirdly attractive teenager,

the like plot necessity of violence against young girls

...) It just chafed after 1000 pages, maybe, I don't know, and maybe I'm blowing it out of proportion but it definitely had an impact on my feelings about the book and makes me kind of hesitant to try other Murakami books. (So y'know if you have insight into the other ones that maybe aren't Like That, please let me know.) I don't know that it ruined the book--clearly I still finished it, and enjoyed it enough to rate it this highly--but oof.

But maybe I got unnecessarily focused on that, and you will be able to ignore it! Again, I think the atmosphere is a powerful reason to read this, and the plot isn't boring by any means--it really does sweep you up! So ymmv on my issues with the book.

This was so, so, so fucking good. Clare does so much in such little space, drawing all these narratives and ways of thinking together, and it's so challenging to think about cure alongside all the tensions he highlights. He also delves into so many areas of thought to pull it all together--obviously disability studies and crip theory, but also environmental studies and history and all of it is so thoughtful and written with so much obvious care. I'm going to be chewing on this book for a long time, and definitely need a copy of my own so I can return to it as frequently as I want. It's also a book I want to share with so many other people. Just so, so good (and might be available through your local public library system--the copy I read was!)

I had a good time reading this book; the twists at the end didn't feel completely impossible to notice, or like it was a twist that had just been dumped in my lap for the sake of making it feel impossible to solve. I think I'd need to read more to feel like I felt comfortable with the genre, but nonetheless I definitely had a good time reading it, even if I'm too stupid to figure out the mystery on my own. Some of the narrator's voice got annoying, but I assume we're supposed to be annoyed because we all know he's an idiot who thinks he's not an idiot. Definitely a decent introduction, though, accessible and interesting enough to keep turning the pages!

This was just delightful. It moved SO quickly, the pacing was so good--I read it in just a few days, and couldn't really put it down. It had everything I've come to quickly love about Thrawn, and I will say that Zahn's talented because he made me care about people who work for the Empire. It was nice to see the development of a bunch of characters, like Commodore Fero. I will say that I went in without having seen any of Rebels but still had an amazing time--I might have missed some things, but it didn't impact my enjoyment.

I do want more, like please sir give me 800 stories of Thrawn being a stupid blue man going around the galaxy looking at art. I guess we'll see! But seriously this was a delightful time, and I really liked it. I feel like I'm the last person on earth to get to Thrawn but I've had a great time with this series, and if you want brain candy, you might enjoy it.

God this was good. I had a hard time following it because I read it under less-than-ideal circumstances, but I totally acknowledge that was my fault and not the book's. I'm going to be revisting this one in the future definitely. So much of this was so good--grappling with the hard questions about healing and moving on and community work. The opening line alone is like a punch in the chest, and it just keeps going from there.

I'd love to revisit this in like a group environment, but definitely will be going back at some point just to sift through more of it and see what sticks with me.

I liked a lot of this, the world obviously was super interesting and the relationships between the characters was super compelling. The tone was wild, though, which maybe was the point--I kept feeling like I got whiplash, and while I know that like Gideon is witty and cutting, and when she is belligerent in other forms I was fine, but the 2017/2018 memes that get used as dialogue didn't strike me as particularly funny, and which I got more and more annoyed with the further I got into the book. I don't remember if the book was advertised with the specific trope (

enemies to lovers (/friends

) but I knew about halfway in where that was headed, though for the most part it wasn't ruined by that.

I was very into the story by the end, and I will almost definitely pick up the sequel, but there was some stuff I wasn't super into in terms of tone.

I think this is compelling in its calls to action for everyone, and obviously the linkage of indigenous knowledge and western scientific knowledge is interesting. Some of the things she said made me go "yikes," especially around the persistence of describing Native people as "the first immigrants"--which is less her fault exactly and more the knowledge of how much this book appeals to settlers and settler-descendants and the dangers of that discourse in those (/our) hands. It also started to feel somewhat repetitive by the end, but that could be that this isn't my first exposure to the topic and so I'm mixing books.

But I do think it's effective in what it sets out to do, and can definitely be a useful teaching tool. I just am not sure it really pushes settlers and settler-descendants to consider their complicity in a far enough direction, or tries too hard to be soft on us? Which maybe she's decided is the way she wants to move forward, but it left me unsettled because it tends to lean into a "we're all equally complicit!" way.

So, incredibly, incredibly good. So many parts of these poems were like getting hit in the throat, especially in the later half, and the form that Whitehead uses is so powerful and intriguing. I want like everyone to read this. At first the form felt intimidating, but VERY quickly I got over that and got into the flow. It's just so much--the poems are beautiful and harrowing, intellectual and also so visceral all at the same time. Just incredible work. Please read this.